


Something Better

by gleesquid



Category: Marvel 616, Spider-Man (Comicverse), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Child Abuse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Flash-Centric, Gen, Internalized Homophobia, Kid Fic, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2020-06-23 20:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19708549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gleesquid/pseuds/gleesquid
Summary: Eugene is 6-years-old. He's seeing The Lion King. And Peter Parker is holding his hand.A love story through the years, and through the radio.





	1. I Just Can't Wait to Be King

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to whatever this is! An ode to Flash Thompson! I was not going to post the first chapter of this for a WHILE but I was in a mood and the Internet will face the consequences. We'll find our way to the end of this, I promise. 
> 
> title from "All My Heroes" by Bleachers
> 
> WARNINGS: alcoholism, homophobia/internalized homophobia (including slurs), casual bigotry, no depictions of graphic child abuse but it is /heavily/ referenced, PTSD. 
> 
> 1994.

The summer was sweaty and suffocating and Eugene was basically dying of boredom. It’s not like he liked school -- his teachers got mad at him for being too loud and fidgety and he could only pay attention during PE, when they got to run around and play after hours of sitting in stiff chairs. But at least with school, he got to get out of the house and talk to people. All he did now was watch TV when his dad was at work and try to play games with Jesse. 

“Hey, Jesse, wanna play a game?” asked Eugene. 

Jesse stuck her foot in her mouth.

He didn’t get far beyond trying.

With a sigh, Eugene hefted himself to his feet and grabbed Jesse around the middle. She was too big to really care anymore, but she sort of waddled her feet along the ground, helping him move her to his mom and dad’s room. The room was dark; he could hear the soft, deep breaths of his mom, asleep after working the night shift. 

“Mom?” Eugene whispered. “I’m gonna put Jesse in her crib, ‘kay?” 

His mom mumbled something in response. Eugene bounced Jesse in his arms to get a better grip and then hefted her to their room. With a deep breath, he lifted Jesse over the rail of her crib. 

He took a moment to catch his breath and stared into Jesse’s doe eyes. 

“You good?” he asked. 

“Banana,” said Jesse and Eugene could do that. He went to the kitchen and grabbed a banana -- it was a little brown, but Jesse wouldn’t care -- and then he filled a sippy cup with apple juice and went back to her crib. 

“Be good,” he said, peeling the banana and handing it to Jesse. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Jesse smiled blearily at him and he grinned back. And then he ran from the room, and out the door, his feet struggling to keep time with his heartbeat. He grabbed his bike from the backyard and then -- freedom. 

Eugene pedaled with wild abandon, not slowing down for angry pigeons or old ladies walking their fluffy dogs. He was out of the house, finally, and the sun was beating down on him; if he moved fast enough, he could feel a breeze, and nowhere anyone else was going could possibly be as important as this. 

He peered up at the sky, bright and blue with feathery white clouds, like something from a picture book or a photograph. It was like could be anywhere. Long Island. Hawaii. Somewhere in, like, Europe, where they had beaches and fashion shows -- 

“Slow down there!” 

Eugene barely had a glimpse of a man with white hair before he was veering into the street and tumbling from his bike. His elbows and knees stung as they scratched against the hot pavement. 

“Easy does it, easy --,” 

The man ran to Eugene, laying in the middle of the street. 

“I’m sorry,” said Eugene, pushing himself to his feet. When he looked down at his legs, he gasped: his knees were bloody and black, torn from the asphalt. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, don’t cry --” 

“I’m not crying,” snapped Eugene, but he suddenly became aware of the warm wetness on his cheeks. He wiped it away. 

A car honked and Eugene jumped. 

“Let’s get you out of the street,” said the man, giving the driver a distracted wave. “C’mon, I live just over here.” 

The man’s hands on Eugene’s shoulders were alarmingly gentle. Eugene kept expecting them to tighten, to bruise, but they were solid and warm and didn’t hurt at all. 

As they walked, guiding Eugene’s bike between them, the man kept up a steady stream of conversation. 

“What’s your name, buddy?” 

Eugene didn’t want to tell him. He had the same name as the nerdy guy in  _ Grease  _ that everyone hated. They had watched that movie on Valentine’s Day, as a family. Eugene thought that Danny was so cool when he got up on the car and danced. He tried to follow along on the living room floor and his dad had snorted and bent his wrist and Eugene knew it meant something dirty from the way his mom whispered, “ _ Harrison. _ ” 

Danny was a cool name. Or Kenickie. Even Rizzo was better than  _ Eugene.  _

“Eugene,” he mumbled, hoping he wouldn’t be heard. 

He was. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Eugene,” said the man, and he kept talking before Eugene could say a thing. “I’m Ben. Your parents working? That’s good, that’s good, work is important. I work in construction. Do you know what construction is? Well, I build bridges mostly. I love bridges. Do you like bridges, Eugene?” 

They arrived at a house, packed against a bunch of other houses, like Eugenes, or maybe a little bit smaller. But when Ben opened the door, the house didn’t smell like smoke and beer. It smelled like -- like whatever the opposite of smoke and beer was. Like flowers. Or Santa’s workshop. If that was even a real place. Eugene was starting to have his doubts.

“May and Peter must be baking,” said Ben. “You want a cookie?” 

Eugene wasn’t sure if this was a trick. So he didn’t say anything.

Ben led him to a tiny kitchen where a tiny woman with greying hair and a tinier boy were laughing and dancing to some music on the radio as they coated little balls of dough in powdered sugar. The Santa Claus smell was even stronger here. Eugene took a big whiff of it, and he couldn’t help his contented sigh. 

At the sound, the boy turned and Eugene blinked when he realized it was Peter, from school. Eugene hadn’t recognized him from the back because he usually saw Peter before class with his backpack on. The backpack had a picture of Batman and Robin from that old TV show on it -- sometimes Eugene watched the reruns with his mom -- and one time a kid asked Peter, “Why do you like such a dumb show?” Eugene had been promising himself that he would never watch  _ Batman  _ again when Peter calmly answered, “I don’t know, Ricky, why can’t you tie your shoes yet?” 

Eugene had thought about that all day. Peter didn’t talk much, but when he did, everyone listened to him. Eugene talked all the time, but it felt like no one ever heard him at all.

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” Peter asked, a frown creasing his face.

“Watch your tone, kiddo,” said Ben, reaching over to ruffle Peter’s dark hair. “ Go get the first aid.” 

Still frowning, Peter ran out of the room. 

“You know Pete from school?” asked Ben as the woman --  _ May,  _ Eugene’s brain filled in -- gently but firmly pushed Eugene onto a wooden chair. 

Eugene nodded. “Are you his mom and dad?” 

Eugene thought they seemed much too old to be Peter’s parents, but Eugene didn’t understand what else they could be. Maybe grandparents that Peter was staying with. Eugene’s mom’s parents were dead and his dad never talked about his parents, so he wasn’t exactly sure how grandparents worked. 

“His aunt and uncle,” said Ben just as Peter came back with the first aid kid. Ben wiped down Eugene’s knees and elbows; the skin there prickled and stung. Eugene stared hard at the floral carpet, trying not to cry. 

“There we go,” said Ben and he pressed large butterfly bandaids to Eugene’s skin. He instantly felt better, the blood hidden from view. 

“Not so bad, huh?” asked Ben, clapping Eugene on the back. Eugene flinched and Ben froze, staring at Eugene with his bushy eyebrows knitted together. Eugene ducked his head, bracing himself for another impact. 

“Who wants ice cream?” 

Eugene glanced up at Ben and then at Peter, whose eyes were wide. 

“Can we go out for ice cream, Uncle Ben?” asked Peter. “Please?”

“I just made cookies,” said May with a huff. 

“Then we’ll get a carton and bring it back,” said Ben. “C’mon, May.”

“C’mon, Aunt May!” repeated Peter, bouncing up and down on his tiptoes. “Please!” 

Aunt May stared at them both for a long moment, her shoulders set and her gaze unwavering. Eugene wanted to tell them to drop it, but he couldn’t, not when he was in their house and Ben had just finished putting him back together. But then something surprising happened: Aunt May smiled, just a little at the edges of her mouth, and Peter was throwing his arms around her waist and Ben was saying, “Slow down, slugger,” but he was smiling too. 

Eugene had never met a group of people who smiled so much. He felt his own lips curling without his permission, like in  _ The Grinch.  _ Like his heart was growing three sizes. Like, somewhere, he could hear singing. 

-x-

Ben walked Peter and Eugene down to the market and they each got to pick out an ice cream flavor. Peter chose rocky road and Eugene chose strawberry because his mom always said he had “strawberry” hair, even though strawberries were red and his was just a little orange sometimes. And Ben got butter pecan, which sounded gross, but apparently it was May’s favorite. 

On the walk back, they played I Spy. Eugene spied a yellow school bus. Peter spotted it immediately. He called it “obvious.” Not even Ben could guess what Peter had spied, and he refused to tell them.

Back at the house, Ben served everyone ice cream: strawberry for Eugene, rocky road for Peter, butter pecan for May, and a little bit of all of ‘em for himself. “That’s not good for your heart,” said May and Ben said, “But it’s good for my stomach!” Peter howled with laughter. 

They settled in front of the TV to watch the Mets game with their ice cream, cheering every time the Mets got on base and booing when the Yankees did. After a half hour or so, Peter snuck out a book to read while the Yankees were at bat. The book was thick and old with no pictures that Eugene could see. 

“Pete, why don’t you take your friend up to you room?” asked Ben. 

“He’s not my friend,” said Peter automatically. 

Eugene scuffed his shoes against the carpet.

May started to say, “ _ Peter  _ \--,” but Eugene cut in, “You’re not my friend either.” 

“Hey, there’ll be none of that in this house,” said Ben in a stern voice and Eugene shrunk back into the couch. “Go show him your room, Pete.” 

With a sigh, Peter slammed his heavy book closed and jumped to his feet. He headed off towards the stairs and Eugene scrambled after him. 

As they climbed the stairs, Eugene’s eyes raked the wall. It was lined with photos and Eugene’s gaze caught on one in particular: a much younger May in a white dress, her arms wrapped around a much younger Ben in a black tuxedo. They grinned at each other dopily. Eugene was pretty sure he had seen pictures of his parents on their wedding day, but he could barely remember them now. He wondered if they looked as happy. 

“You coming?” yelled Peter and Eugene ran the rest of the way up the stairs. 

Peter’s room was pretty much the same size and shape as Eugene’s, but there was no crib for Jesse, of course, and his bed wasn’t just a mattress shoved against the wall; it was shaped like a race car. 

“Whoa,” said Eugene, staring at it. “That’s so cool.” 

“Oh, thanks,” said Peter, like he’d never really thought about how cool it was. 

Eugene wandered around Peter’s room. There was a box of toys, mostly action figures and little plastic animals. He passed a huge bookshelf that was basically overflowing with books; Eugene could see some comic books, but they were outnumbered by old chapter books and encyclopedias. And there was a desk with a lava lamp on it, which Eugene thought was really cool, and some more books and a stack of papers that had pencil sketches on them. 

“Did you draw these?” asked Eugene. 

“Yup,” said Peter, popping the ‘p’ as he picked out an encyclopedia from his book shelf. “I do that sometimes.” 

Eugene looked over the drawings: sketches of flowers and dogs and one with a bunch of connected dots that Eugene thought might be a constellation of stars. He shuffled he drawing across the desk to get a closer look and his gaze caught on one. It was labelled _Anatomy of a Spider_ and, true enough, had a detailed drawing of some long-legged spider on it, with branches pointing to words in Peter’s scratchy writing: _Patella_ ; _Femur_ ; _Heart_ ; _Pedipalp_. 

“You can take that if you want.” 

“What?” Eugene asked, spinning around. 

“The drawing,” said Peter, squinting at Eugene through his glasses. “I can make another one.” 

Eugene’s hands were sweaty. “I don’t want it.” 

Peter frowned. “Screw you, Eugene.” He went back to the book in his lap. 

Eugene stared at Peter with his head bent over the book. He was a quiet kid at school and mostly kept to himself; Eugene had never really looked at him before. Even from this angle, Eugene could see his thick eyebrows and a nose that jutted sharply under the bridge of his glasses. His hair was a moppy mess of almost-curls, shadowing his face. Eugene thought there was a lot about him to look at. 

He folded up the drawing of the spider and shoved it into the pocket of his shorts. 

Eugene turned back to the desk to shuffle Peter’s drawings back into a stack when he noticed a colorful piece of paper peeking out from the mess. It was an invitation for -- Eugene could barely believe it --  _ Liz Allan’s _ birthday party. 

Liz Allan was in Peter and Flash’s class and she was the prettiest girl in school with extremely shiny hair. Her dad owned a restaurant which was a very cool thing to do and for show and tell, Liz brought a hamster to class and it was the cutest hamster ever. There had been rumors about Liz’s birthday party going around and Eugene didn’t think he’d be invited. But he didn’t think Peter Parker would be invited either. 

“Are you going to the party?” asked Peter, once again noticing Eugene’s observations. 

“No,” said Eugene. He felt like he had when he got a gummy bear caught in his throat. “It sounds stupid.” 

“I thought you and Liz were friends.” 

“I think she’s dumb.” 

“Sure.” Eugene could practically hear Peter’s eyes rolling. “You just follow her around like a lost puppy at recess.”

“Shut up!” Eugene spun around to glare at Peter. His eyes burned hot. He swallowed against a thick knot in his throat. “This is why you don’t have any friends.” 

Peter scowled. “You eat lunch in the bathroom.”

A hot flush worked its way over Eugene’s face. He only hid in the bathroom when they didn’t have any food in the house and his mom forgot to give him money to buy lunch at school. Not because he didn’t have friends. And he didn’t think anyone had noticed. 

“I’m going home,” said Eugene. 

“Whatever,” said Peter, staring down at his book. 

Eugene raced out of Peter’s bedroom and down the stairs. Ben and May were still watching the game. 

“You okay, pal?” asked Ben. 

“Thanks for the ice cream,” said Eugene and then he was darting out the door. He hopped on his bike and pedalled fast down the street, away from ice cream and birthday invitations and Peter and his aunt and uncle, his knees aching the whole time. 

-x-

When he snuck back into his home, his dad was still out. His mom’s door was still shut tight. He checked in on Jesse, and saw her sleeping soundly in her crib, curled up around her sippy cup. It was like he hadn’t left at all.

-x-

There was a pink envelope bearing his name in bold silver glitter sitting in the mailbox. Eugene pulled it out carefully, leaving the rest of the mail inside, and stared at the unicorn sticker securing the flap. And then he tore it open. 

_ You Are Cordially Invited to Liz’s Birthday!  _

_ Join Liz on opening day of The Lion King for some WILD fun!  _

_ Day: June 24 _ __  
_ Time: 2:00 pm _ __  
_ Place: Liz’s house _ _  
_ __ Please RSVP

Eugene turned the envelope over in his hands. The glittery  _ EUGENE THOMPSON  _ stared back at him _.  _ It wasn’t a mistake. 

Eugene could barely contain his smile as he ran back inside. 

“Mom, mom!” Eugene yelled. “Guess what!” 

Eugene found his mom in his and Jesse’s room. Jesse was running around in nothing but a diaper, while his mom clutched a tiny dress helplessly. 

“Mom, guess what!” 

“Not now, Eugene.”

“Moooom!” 

“Mom, guess what!” shouted Jesse. “Mom, guess what!” 

“ _ What _ , Eugene?” asked Eugene’s mom. 

Eugene shoved the invitation into his mom’s face. She blinked, craning her neck to get a better look at it. “I got invited to Liz’s birthday party! They’re going to see  _ The Lion King _ ! Can I go, can I go, can I --,” 

“Eugene -- hush for one minute, please.” 

She took the invitation and read it as Jesse jumped on Eugene’s mattress and yelled, “Can I go!” 

“I’m sure you can go,” Mom said at last and Eugene beamed. “But you’ll have to ask your dad first.” 

Eugene deflated. Dad never let him do anything. 

But maybe this time. If he saw how much he wanted to go. 

Eugene ran and tackled Jesse to his mattress. She shrieked. 

“Eugene!” Mom yelled, running over. “Oh my god, you can’t just do that. Jess, are you hurt?” 

But Jesse, trapped in the cage of Eugene’s arms, was giggling madly. 

“I got you, monster,” Eugene told his sister, blowing a raspberry on her shoulder. He smiled up at his mom. “I helped!” 

“I helped, I helped, I helped!” chorused Jesse. 

“You can’t just do that,” said his mom, but she finally slipped the dress onto Jesse. 

-x-

Eugene waited on the steps of his house for his dad to come home. It got very dark. 

Mom poked her head out of the door. Under the flickering porch light, she looked like a ghost. 

“He’s not coming home any time soon, hon,” she said. 

“He gets off at six,” said Eugene. 

“And it’s nine.” 

“But you said --,” 

“Eugene!” Mom burst. Eugene shrunk back and Mom rubbed her eyes. “I think he’s busy, baby. Come inside.” 

“Quit telling him that, Rosie,” called a voice. 

Eugene jumped up. There, walking towards them, was his dad, tall and broad, with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and a glinting flask in his hand. 

“Daddy!” Eugene cried, running up to his father. 

“What did I tell you about calling me that, kid? Makes you sound like a girl.”

“Sorry, sir.” 

“Where were you?” asked Mom as Dad pushed his way through the door. 

“Doesn’t matter, does it? I’m here now.” 

“Dad, I have a question,” said Eugene as his dad threw himself down on the sofa. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through sports channels.

“Well, spit it out. Don’t got all day.” 

Eugene gingerly placed the invitation he was still holding in his father’s lap. 

“I got invited to Liz’s party,” said Eugene, suddenly feeling very shy. “She’s taking friends to see  _ The Lion King. _ It’s got a -- a lion in it.” 

“You know I don’t like movies, bucko.” 

“I know, but I --,”

“Hollywood’s full of bleeding heart queers,” said Eugene’s dad, as if he didn’t hear him. “It’s even worse than Queens that way.” 

“Harrison,” said Mom. “He’s six.” 

“If he’s gonna be a grown man, he has to learn how a grown man talks.” Dad slugged him lightly across the chin, and Eugene grinned. “Right, Eugene?” 

“Right,” said Eugene, unsure of what he was agreeing to. 

His dad took a swig from his flask, kicking off his shoes. “Make me a sandwich or something, will you, Rose?” 

Eugene’s mom bustled away into the kitchen. Eugene waited until he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

“So can I go?” Eugene asked. 

Dad didn’t even look at him. “Go where?” 

“To -- to Liz Allan’s party.” 

“Wait --,” Dad’s eyes flicked to him. “Allan, like -- that guy with the restaurant?” 

“Yes!” said Eugene, beaming. 

“I am not buying some rich asshole’s daughter a birthday present. Count yourself out.” 

Eugene’s smile faded. “What?” 

Dad tore the invitation down the middle. Eugene flinched back from the sound of paper tearing, like it was a gunshot. 

“You’re not going. That’s the end of it.” 

Dad dropped the pieces of the invitation and Eugene watched them float down to the carpet. Tears stung his eyes. He sniffed. 

“You crying?” Dad asked. 

“No, sir.” 

“Good. Go to your room.” 

Eugene ran to his bedroom, where Jesse was sleeping in the crib she was too big for. He laid down on his mattress, pulled the covers over his head, and tried to cry without sound. 

-x-

Eugene cracked open the door to his bedroom and slipped outside. His socked feet padded on the carpeted hallway, past his parents’ closed door, and into the living room. His father was asleep on the couch and he slowly bent to grab the pieces of the invitation. Dad mumbled something in his sleep. Eugene froze -- but Dad just rolled over onto his side.

Eugene tiptoed into the kitchen, where he sat at a chair next to the phone. He held the pieces of the invitation close to his face, staring at the tiny numbers next to the  _ RSVP.  _ Slowly and quietly, he took the phone from the wall and pressed the numbers. 

The ringing in his ear seemed incredibly loud. He was scared it would wake his dad. 

It kept ringing and ringing and ringing. He closed his eyes. 

“ _ Hello _ ?” 

Eugene’s eyes flew open. 

“Hello,” he said, using his best grown up voice. “Is Liz home?” 

“ _ Who is this? _ ”

“Eugene Thompson. I got to school with Liz.” 

“ _This is very late to be calling, Eugene._ _Liz is in bed. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”_

“Oh -- no -- I have a late bed time. I don’t have to go to bed until -- very late.” 

_ “I see. What did you want to tell Liz, Eugene?” _

“I just wanted to tell her I can come to her party. To see  _ The Lion King. _ ”

_ “Oh. Well. I’m glad, Eugene. I’ll make sure to let her know.”  _

“Thank you, sir.” 

“ _ Good night. _ ” 

“Good night, sir.” 

Eugene carefully placed the phone back. He tiptoed into his bedroom where Jesse was still sleeping soundly. He climbed into bed and within only a moment, he was asleep. 

-x-

“I’m going to the park,” Eugene told his mother. She didn’t respond, too busy trying to dress Jesse for the day, and so Eugene slipped out of the house, helmet already strapped to his head.

He unchained his bike. He’d gotten it for his fifth birthday and his dad taught him to ride last summer. Sometimes, when his dad got very angry, Eugene would remember the feeling of his arms wrapped around him right before he let go, the sound of his laughter when Eugene rode alone for the first time. 

Eugene hopped on his bike and took off for Liz’s house, on the opposite end of Forrest Hills. 

He knew he was there when he saw the balloons tied to the mailbox -- and the giant bounce house out front, shaped like a jungle with trees stretching into the sky and a monkey sitting on top. Eugene’s jaw dropped. It was so big. Just like the real jungle.

Slowly, he walked his bike up the driveway. There were already kids jumping up and down inside the bounce house and Eugene itched to go join them but he had to put down his present first. The door was open and Eugene walked in to see a huge pile of brightly wrapped presents, most of which were in huge boxes and bags, glistening under the sunlight that shone through the windows. Eugene looked down at his own present, wrapped in yesterday’s newspaper. He set it down on a box wrapped in Power Rangers wrapping paper.

“Well if it isn’t the little night owl.” 

Eugene spun around to see Mr. Allan, standing very tall and in clothes that Eugene’s dad would have said made him look like he had a stick up his ass. Still, Eugene liked the way he smiled. 

“Your mom and dad didn’t want to stop in to say hello?” asked Mr. Allan. 

Eugene shook his head. “They had to go to work.’

“Well, that’s alright. I’ll just go get Liz.” 

“You don’t have to!” said Eugene, not wanting Liz to be mad at him when he was still reeling that she invited him to her birthday. 

But Mr. Allan was already striding towards the open door. Eugene blew out a breath and ran after him. 

“Liz,” Mr. Allan said, poking his head into the flap of the bounce house. “Your friend Eugene is here.” 

“Send him in!” came Liz’s voice and Eugene’s tummy erupted in butterflies. 

“You heard the lady,” said Mr. Allan, grinning at Eugene. 

Taking a deep breath, Eugene crawled into the bounce house. Eugene recognized pretty much everyone bouncing from school -- Kenny, who Eugene always liked, outgoing Sally who could do a cartwheel, smiley A.J, and Cindy, who had the best snacks and was able to beat the boys at arm-wrestling. And in the center of everyone was Liz Allan, wearing a pink party dress that shimmered like it had been dipped in glitter. Her shiny hair bounced in big barrel curls. Eugene thought she looked like a doll, or an angel. 

“Hi, Eugene!” said Liz. 

“Happy birthday, Liz,” said Eugene, his lips suddenly very dry. “Your dress is really pretty.” The other kids giggled and Eugene flushed. “I mean -- I just think it’s cool.” 

But even as everyone laughed, Liz only smiled. “Thanks. Have you ever been in a bounce house?” 

Eugene shook his head. 

“That’s okay,” she said and she reached forward to grab his hand. And then she was leading him towards the middle of the bounce house where everything glowed green and Eugene was jumping up and down, just a little, and then a lot. This was basically the funnest thing ever and Liz laughed like she wasn’t afraid anyone would hear her and someone knocked into Eugene and he went stumbling into a mesh window but even that was fun. He didn’t feel stupid. He just felt silly. 

Pressed up against the window, he could see Liz’s dad talking to a new family, and he recognized them: Peter Parker and his aunt and uncle. A sudden rush of nerves washed over Eugene. He hadn’t imagined what seeing Peter might be like again, too overcome with elation at even being invited. Peter’s hair was still messy, but neater too, like it had been thoroughly combed. He glanced over at the bounce house and Eugene looked away.

A minute later, Mr. Allan poked his head into the through the door flap. “Peter’s here. I’ll give you fifteen more minutes.” 

Peter climbed into the bounce house and immediately began to bounce over to Liz like he had done this a million times before. Maybe he had. Maybe Eugene was the only person in the world who didn’t know how to use a dumb bounce house.

Liz hugged Peter and something unsettled itself within Eugene. As he bounced, he knocked into Peter. Peter stumbled backwards, catching himself before he fell. He scowled. 

“What was that for?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest. 

It surprised Eugene somehow, that Peter was looking at him so defiantly. It shouldn’t have. 

“Sorry,” Eugene mumbled. “Accident.” 

“Sure,” said Peter before bouncing towards Sally. 

Eugene felt a flush of something bad in his tummy, watching Peter go, and it got worse when he saw the way Liz was frowning at him. 

“It was an accident,” said Eugene. 

“Okay,” said Liz and they kept bouncing until Mr. Allan came to get them. No one wanted to stop bouncing but when he reminded them that they were going to see  _ The Lion King,  _ they couldn’t leave fast enough. 

Mr. Allan drove a van that had a big advertisement of his restaurant and catering services on the side and they all piled in with Mrs. Allan and Liz’s aunt. The presents were loaded in the back already and Eugene noticed Liz trying very hard not to look at them. 

Peter noticed too. “What do you think you got?” he whispered, but Eugene could hear from the backseat. 

“A pony,” said Liz, glancing over her shoulder and meeting Eugene’s eyes. She grinned and Eugene’s stomach swooped. 

They parked in a private lot by Mr. Allan’s restaurant and then held hands with a grown up to walk the rest of the way to the movie theatre. Eugene was holding hands with Liz’s aunt and Kenny took her other hand. When everyone had been paired up, only Peter was left. 

“You can hold  _ my  _ hand, Peter,” said Liz, who was holding her dad’s hand. Sally, from his other side, started giggling. Peter rolled his eyes in a big show but took Liz’s hand anyway. 

As they approached the theater, Peter said, “Did you know this is the oldest theater in Queens?” 

“That’s very interesting, Peter,” said Mr. Allan. 

“Know-it-all,” Eugene muttered, though he wasn’t sure why. But Kenny laughed and that made Eugene feel good. 

Inside the theater, there were a bunch of kids already sitting with their parents and even some teenagers. Mr. Allan led them to the fourth row that was specially reserved. Eugene ended up in between Kenny and Peter and he glanced forlornly at Peter’s other side where Liz sat, talking excitedly to Sally, Cindy, and A.J. 

But as the lights went down and the sun rose on the screen, a hush settled over the theater. And Eugene had thought this was a movie about lions but suddenly there were cheetahs and rhinos and elephants and giraffes and it was unlike anything he’d ever seen. He felt like he was on a safari. Like he’d left Queens and gone across the world in the blink of an eye. 

There was something about Simba, about his confidence, that Eugene loved. He laughed along with everyone else while Simba and Nala teased Zazu and when Simba sang  _ “I’m gonna be a mighty king, so enemies beware!”  _ Eugene thought,  _ Tell ‘em, Simba.  _

When the stampede started, it was like the whole theater shook. Eugene sat straighter in his chair, fighting to keep from screaming out at Simba to run. He breathed a sigh of relief when Mufasa showed up because Mufasa was the biggest and the strongest and would save him. But then Mufasa was climbing to safety, and Scar appeared, and Eugene didn’t understand. Scar was hurting him. Mufasa, who was a good guy. The best guy. He hadn’t done anything wrong. And then Scar let go -- let Mufasa fall back into the stampede with a wicked smile. Eugene couldn’t help his broken gasp. 

As Simba crept up to Mufasa’s body, asking him to wake up, Eugene felt hot tears on his cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Mufasa had loved Simba so much. He was everything a dad should be. Why didn’t they get to be together? 

A timid hand curled over his and Eugene looked over to see that it belonged to Peter. Peter was holding his hand. It was warm and gentle, but strong too, like he wanted Eugene to know it hadn’t been a mistake. Eugene’s eyes passed over Peter’s face, lit golden from the light of the film. He saw nothing but a quiet sadness as Peter watched the movie. 

“ _ No one ever means for these things to happen,”  _ said Scar.  _ “But the king is dead. And if it weren’t for you, he’d still be alive.”  _

Eugene squeezed Peter’s hand, just once. Peter squeezed back. Just once. 

Eugene didn’t let go until Nala had found Simba again. There was something about the lions frolicking past waterfalls, asking each other if they could feel the love tonight, that made holding hands too weird. Peter didn’t even seem to notice. 

When Simba finally killed Scar and took his place on Pride Rock, Eugene was vibrating with excitement., like it was him standing up on that rock in the rain. He could practically feel the water beating his face.

He blinked against the awakening lights.

“That was the best movie ever!” Liz proclaimed, jumping to her feet. “I love Nala the most!” 

“In a real lion pride, the dominant male would be the father of all the kids,” said Peter. “Simba and Nala are probably siblings.” 

Liz gagged in disgust, making Peter smirk. As they all joined hands to walk back to the restaurant, Eugene thought about Peter holding his hand in the dark. Now Peter wasn’t even looking at him. 

-x-

The restaurant was decked out in  _ Lion King _ balloons and green and orange streamers. They ate pizza and were all super impressed with how Kenny managed to eat six slices. And then it was time for Liz to open her presents. 

She gasped in happiness when she opened a t-shirt with a unicorn on it from A.J. Sally gave her a Barbie doll that came with a light up pegasus. From Cindy, she got the newest Mariah Carey CD and a box of snacks from the Korean market (Cindy always had the best snacks). Kenny gave her a squirt gun and Peter gave her a stuffed Simba. 

“Oh, wait, I missed one!” said Liz, pulling Eugene’s newspaper wrapping from beneath a piece of sparkling tissue paper. She quickly pulled the paper off and out tumbled two strips of thread -- one pink and purple, one blue and orange. Liz held them up to examine them. 

“They’re friendship bracelets,” said Eugene. “One’s actually for me. I made them so we could match.” 

Eugene could hear Sally and A.J. whispering and giggling. He swallowed. 

“Thank you, Eugene,” Liz said at last. “I love them. Do mine and I’ll do yours.” 

Eugene felt a weight lift from his shoulders as he tied Liz’s bracelet on her wrist with a messy bow and she made quick work of his. 

“Friends forever,” said Liz, her mouth in a little crescent moon smile that made Eugene feel invincible. 

Mr. Allan brought out the cake, which was decorated like a jungle and had little toy  _ Lion King _ characters on it. There was so much frosting on each piece. Eugene wished he could bring some home to Jessie.

“You have frosting on your nose,” said Cindy.

Eugene stuck out his tongue to try and lick the frosting off, making everyone laugh. Peter just rolled his eyes and reached over to wipe the frosting from Eugene’s nose himself. Eugene let him, unsure why he felt so light and so heavy all at once, like a balloon with a weight tied to its string. 

-x-

When they got back to Liz’s place, they kept bouncing until parents started showing up. A.J.’s dad came first, and then Kenny’s mom, and Cindy’s mom, and Sally’s older sister. When Peter’s Uncle Ben strolled up to the bounce house, Peter smiled the brightest that Eugene had ever seen him smile.

“Uncle Ben!” Peter yelled, launching himself through the bounce house door flaps and into Ben’s arms. Ben swung him around, laughing. 

“You enjoy the movie, kiddo?” 

“Oh, yeah!” said Peter. “Even though it was vaguely incestuous!” 

They walked back the way Ben had come, swinging hands between them. Neither of them looked back, and that was fine. There was no reason to look back.

Eugene felt his legs give way beneath him and he bounced on his butt. 

“Are your parents coming soon?” asked Liz, twirling in the middle. “It’s getting late. Did they forget you?” 

“No,” said Eugene, staring at the way the sunlight filtered through the mesh windows and made the green rubber shine gold. “I rode my bike here.” 

“Do you need me to get my dad?” 

Eugene shook his head. 

“Okay,” said Liz, bouncing onto her knees. She crawled over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you for the bracelet, Eugene.” 

Liz pulled back, only to kiss him softly on one cheek and then the other. Eugene lifted his hands to his face, feeling the heat of the skin she’d touched. 

“That’s how they kiss in France,” said Liz. 

“Cool,” said Eugene. 

-x-

Eugene felt like he was flying as he rode his bike. The wind rushed against him, cooling his face. The sunset cast everything in rosy tints.

As he biked up to his house, he noticed the silhouettes of his parents through a window. Eugene dropped his bike and ran through the unlocked front door.

Eugene’s mother and father turned to look at him. The house smelled like an ashtray. 

“Eugene,” said Mom, running to envelope him in a hug. “Jesus, where have you been?” 

“I . . . I was . . .” 

“Spit it out, kid,” said Dad around his cigarette. 

Eugene swallowed. “I went to Liz’s birthday party.” 

The only thing Eugene could hear was the ragged breath of his father puffing out smoke. 

“Eugene,” said Mom at last. Her eyes were glassy and red, but he couldn’t tell it was from crying or the ash. “You know your father said you couldn’t go.” 

Eugene nodded. 

“So why did you go?” 

“Because I wanted to,” said Eugene. 

“I think you should go to your room, Rose,” said Dad. 

“Harrison, just let me --,” 

“Get out.” 

She hung her head. And then she stood. 

“Mommy . . .” Eugene whispered. 

Mom ran a hand over Eugene’s hair. “Your father knows best,” she said and then she was retreating to her own room. The soft click of the door seemed to echo as if they were standing in the middle of a cave filled with nothing and not their own home.

“Come here, Eugene,” said Dad. 

Eugene stared at him. In the dim light, the glow of his cigarette reminded Eugene of the fight between Simba and Scar, the way they roared and clawed at each other even as the entire savannah burned. 

“Eugene. Now.” 

“I’m gonna be a mighty king,” Eugene whispered to himself. “So enemies beware.” 

“What was that?”

“Nothing, sir,” he said, and stepped forward into the smoke. 


	2. I Want It That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 1999.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> additional warnings for infidelity and divorce
> 
> flash, liz, and peter are about 11 here

Silent Reading was a time for passing notes or doodling, in general. That’s just the way it was. Only total nerds and teachers’ pets actually used the time to read. But, the thing was, Eugene had gotten a pretty cool book for his birthday. Or at least it wasn’t super boring. So maybe he actually liked Silent Reading now. It sure beat math. 

He could feel his lips moving along to the words as is finger traced under them. Whispers of fluttering pages filled the air. The teacher munched on a carrot stick.

_ “Harry -- you’re a great wizard, you know.”  _

_ “I’m not as good as you,” said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him.  _

_ “Me!” said Hermione. “Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery and --” _

A folded piece of journal paper dropped in the middle of the page. Eugene looked up at Peter Parker, sitting next to him and reading a battered copy of  _ 1984\.  _

“What?” he whispered. 

Peter ignored him. 

Eugene flicked the folded paper off his book and went back to the words on the page. Peter elbowed him. 

“I’m reading,” hissed Eugene. 

“There’s a first.” 

Eugene rolled his eyes. “Just because it was written this century.” 

“ _ 1984  _ was written in 1947.” 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” 

The teacher cleared her throat loudly, glaring in their direction. They craned their heads down, burying their noses in their books. 

“It’s from Liz,” mumbled Peter and that got Eugene’s attention. He looked along the row of desks to Liz, sitting at the other end. She was staring at him with wide eyes. 

Eugene unfolded the note. Liz’s loopy handwriting stared back at him:  _ My place after school? I’ve got the goods if you know what I mean.  _

Eugene did not know what she meant. He looked back up at her; she winked (Liz winked a lot these days, like she had been practicing), and then went back to her own book, which had a horse on the cover. 

“Thanks,” Eugene mumbled to Peter. Peter, of course, ignored him. 

-x-

When the bell rang, Eugene shoved his books and homework into his backpack and then ran to meet Liz. 

“What did you mean?” he asked. “What goods?” 

“You’ll just have to come over and find out,” said Liz, a knowing lilt in her voice. 

Eugene knew the kids around them were listening. They probably thought he and Liz were, like, hooking up or something. 

They weren’t of course. Like, ew.

Unless . . . she wanted to? 

“I have to take Jesse home,” said Eugene. 

“Then after. Or I can meet you at your place.” 

Eugene couldn’t imagine Liz at his place. That feeling when you wake up too early and you’re miserable but then you look out the window and see the sun coming up and everything is soft and rosy you can hear birds singing and for a moment you’re so happy that you woke up early? That’s what being friends with Liz was like. But Eugene’s home was the waking up early without the sunrise and the birds. All you felt was tired. 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll bike over after.” 

“Sure,” said Liz, but he could tell she was disappointed. She’d been dropping hints about coming over to his place for a while now. She didn’t get that it was really, honestly nothing special. 

He wondered if one day she’d realize he was nothing special and drop him as quickly as she’d decided they were friends. And then he’d be left with nothing. Less than nothing. 

As he took the bus home with Jesse, Eugene realized that if Liz wanted to hook up (whatever that meant), he should probably do it. Anything to make her stay. And it wouldn’t be so bad, right? They’d just kiss a little. It’s not like they were old enough to do anything else.

So after dropping Jesse at a home with a kiss on her forehead, he biked across Forest Hills to Liz’s place. The houses got bigger and more spaced apart, and the grass got greener. Everything smelled better. He let himself imagine that he had lived here his whole life, just a few miles from reality. When he pictured it, he wasn’t thinking about the houses and courtyards and grass. All he saw was Liz. Growing up with Liz. They’d do everything together and she’d be like his sister and then she’d never leave because they were family and you were stuck with your family for better or worse.

Liz’s home neared and Eugene hopped off his bike. She must have been watching from a window; the front door swung open and Liz ran out to meet him. 

“C’mon, slow poke! Destiny awaits!” 

Liz grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the house and up the stairs into her room, as pink and sparkly as everything else about her.

“So what is it?” asked Eugene, nervously avoiding Liz’s bed. He didn’t know what hooking up entailed but he was pretty sure it happened on a bed. 

His insides squirmed. He hoped he didn’t puke. 

But Liz was hardly paying him any attention, bent over her nightstand. Eugene peered around her and he could see that she was fiddling with her Hello Kitty boombox. 

Maybe she wanted, to like. Set the mood?

Music blasted through the air. Eugene took a step backwards, his back hitting the door. 

“It’s the new Backstreet Boys CD!” said Liz, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Just came out last Tuesday!” 

Eugene’s mouth curled into a smile as the sheer force of Liz’s enthusiasm washed over him. It was a couple months ago, if he remembered right: Liz was gushing over her excitement for  _ Millenium  _ and Jason Ionello had said “The Backstreet Boys are for girls” and Eugene had said something like “Well, I think they’re pretty cool.” He didn’t know why he said it, and he’d felt embarrassed afterward -- he didn’t even think Liz had heard him. But now here she was, baring all her teeth in a giant grin, and Eugene realized that she’d heard every word. And she’d remembered. 

“Cool,” said Eugene, climbing onto Liz’s bed. “I really like this song.” 

-x-

“Do you think the world’s gonna end?” asked Liz. 

The CD was on its third play through and the melodies were familiar now, drifting over and between the two of them stretched out in opposite directions on the bed. 

“Eventually, I guess,” said Eugene. His eyes were closed and the world was dark. The words didn’t sound real as they left his mouth.

“No, I mean, like. This year. It’s a new millennium. Everyone thing thinks it’s the end.” 

“Who’s everyone?” 

He felt a kick to his knee and he grinned. 

“Just people, okay? There’s been talk. A new millennium. Kaboom.” 

“The world’s not gonna end before the Mets win the Series again.” 

“The world is definitely gonna end before that happens.” 

It was Eugene’s turn to kick Liz. Her giggles tapered off into silence, and his socked toes rested against her thigh.

“Have you ever kissed anyone, Eugene?” asked Liz. 

He twisted his foot so he was no longer touching her skin.

“No. You?” 

“No. Want to though. I like to practice on Raptor.” 

Raptor was the name of Liz’s stuffed bunny rabbit that she’d had since she was four. His name used to be Snuggles, but she renamed him after she was finally allowed to watch  _ Jurassic Park  _ last year. There was a name changing ceremony and a certificate and everything. Eugene brought his leftover Halloween candy.

“Hot,” he said. 

“Shut up. Sally Avril hooked up with a boy at her gymnastics camp over winter break.”

“She told you that?” 

“It’s what I heard. There’s been talk.” 

Eugene blinked his eyes open, letting the light burn, just so he could push himself up on his elbows and squint over at Liz. “What does ‘ _hooked up’_ even mean?” 

Liz blinked back at him. “I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like the whole world is speaking a different language.” 

“Totally. Like ‘hooked up.’ I don’t even know what it means. It’s like I blinked and now everyone’s just talking in French and I’m yelling normal words but no one can even hear me. You know?” He flopped back onto the bed. “Maybe the world did end.”

“That’s not how it is with us though,” continued Liz. “You hear me.” 

Eugene wanted to say that hearing and understanding weren’t the same thing, but he didn’t. He didn’t even know what he meant by that.

_ CRASH.  _

Liz jumped from her bed and ran to the bannister, Eugene right behind her. She opened her mouth, as if to call out, but stopped short. People were talking. People were screaming.

“What the hell are you doing?” asked Mr. Allan, his voice muffled from behind a closed door. “Liz will hear you! And where do you get off anyway, throwing things, when you’re the one who --,” 

“Don’t even pin this on me.” And that was Mrs. Allan. She sounded close to tears. Eugene looked over to Liz; her knuckles were white on the bannister. “When was the last time we had a conversation, Wilson? The last time you hugged me just because you wanted to? It’s always the stupid restraunt --,” 

“Right, of course. That makes complete sense. My trying to provide for this family forced you to sleep with another man for eight months!” 

Liz turned and ran back into her room. Eugene followed if tugged by a string tied to Liz’s shoes. The door slammed behind them and the yelling abruptly cut off. 

Liz sat on her bed. She jumped up. She looked out the window and she closed the blinds. She paced back and forth from one end of her room to the next, reminding Eugene of the time they went to the zoo for a field trip and saw a lioness pacing back and forth behind the glass.

“It’s not real, right?” asked Liz. “It’s not true. There’s been a mistake, and it’s all a lie and I don’t even know what they’re not saying, but this isn't really happening. Right?” 

Liz looked at Eugene and he felt like he was staring into the face of something inhuman. An animal stuck in a trap. On the verge of attacking or chewing off its own leg.

“Right,” said Eugene. 

There was a knock on the door. Liz just stared at it. But Eugene couldn’t take the silence and he opened the door. Mr. and Mrs. Allan stood in the doorway, close enough to touch, but it was as if there were miles between them, like every single person here was on separate islands that no one else could reach.

“Eugene,” said Mr. Allan. “Could you go home please? We need to talk to Liz.” 

Liz started crying, a soft, gentle cry like when you squeeze a sponge and water bubbles silently over your hands. Eugene couldn’t bear to look at her for one moment longer. He left the room, and then house, the harmonies of the Backstreet Boys following him all the way outside. 

-x-

Liz didn’t come to school for the rest of the week. It never stopped Eugene from checking her desk each morning, just in case.

-x-

“Your dad’s gonna pick you up today,” Mom said as she brushed Jesse’s hair. 

Eugene assumed he hadn’t heard right, or that some sort of trick was being played on him. That was just about the stupidest thing he could imagine. 

“ _ Dad’s _ picking me up?” 

“Watch your tone. You and Jess both. Find your sister and wait for him. Don’t get on the bus.” 

Eugene blinked at his untied shoelaces. His dad had picked him up once, in kindergarten, and never again. In first grade, he began taking the bus; he used to hate it, but ever since Jesse started school, it was kind of nice to have a buddy. And Terry, the bus driver, thought it was cute that he took care of his sister. She sometimes snuck them candy. 

“Why?” Eugene asked at last. 

“Because he wants to spend time with you, hon.” Mom tied a bow onto the end of Jesse’s braid. Eugene didn’t know why she bothered. Jesse would just lose it the minute they left the house. “And you didn’t hear this from me, but I think there might even be some ice cream in it for you.”

Eugene perked up. Maybe his dad really did want to do something nice for him. That would be a change. But sometimes things did change, Eugene knew, and he thought of Mr. and Mrs. Allan yelling at each other and Liz’s tear-streaked face. He thought of the world ending. A new millennium. Kaboom.

“What ice cream are you gonna get, monster?” Eugene asked Jesse. 

“A pink one!” she said. “To match my  _ beautiful  _ bow.” 

She smiled angelically as their mother fawned over her, but as they walked to the bus stop, she “accidentally” dropped her beautiful pink bow in a storm drain. 

-x-

Eugene walked into class -- and froze. Liz sat at her desk like she always did, her nose buried in a book. As Eugene approached, he could see the dark circles shadowing her eyes. She looked like she hadn’t slept at all in the week she’d been gone. 

The other kids were whispering as they began to notice Liz too. It wasn’t everyday that someone just disappeared from class for days on end and then reappeared out of nowhere. Eugene could see the tense line of Liz’s shoulders -- she definitely noticed that people were talking, but she was pretending she didn’t. Eugene had never known Liz to shy away from the spotlight

“Hey,” said Eugene, standing over Liz. 

She didn’t look up. 

“You haven’t been in class for a while,” he tried. 

“Yeah, I noticed,” said Liz. Her voice sounded hard and bitter. Not at all like sunshine.

“Well . . . I missed you --,” 

“Oh my god, Eugene, can you just leave me alone? Please?” 

Eugene blinked down at Liz. Her knuckles were white around the edges of her book. She still wouldn’t even look at him. Something hot curled in his stomach. 

“Sure,” he said. “Whatever. Jesus. But I’m just trying to be your friend, okay? You look like you need one.” 

“She said to leave her alone,” said a familiar voice, and oh, fantastic, Peter freakin’ Parker had showed up. Peter, who thought he was some kind of damn knight on horseback sent down by God himself to rescue all the fair maidens from Eugene’s dastardly clutches. The thing inside him burned. 

“Shut the fuck up, Parker,” said Eugene as a hush fell over the class. 

He didn’t know why he said it, or where it even came from ( _ “Buddy, can you shut the fuck up for five seconds and get me some advil?”  _ said his dad, sunglasses on even though they were inside), but now everyone was staring at him instead of Liz. Including the teacher. Stupid. 

“Eugene,” she said from the front of the class, “that kind of language is not tolerated. You’ll be staying in for recess and won’t be allowed to leave the lunch tables today. Now apologize.” 

Peter, for his part, didn’t look hurt or smug. He just stared shrewdly, as if to ask Eugene,  _ That the best you got? _

“Sorry,” mumbled Eugene, and took his seat. 

-x-

Eugene watched the PE teacher Mr. Garcia shooting baskets with the sixth graders. He made every shot, like he was Michael Jordan or something. A light gleam of sweat coated his golden brown skin, but not enough to make it look like he was trying that hard. But it must have been tiring because Mr. Garcia trotted over to the sideline to take a long swig of his Gatorade and then he wiped the sweat from his forehead with a towel. 

As he dropped the towel, Mr. Garcia caught Eugene’s eye. Eugene dropped his gaze to his soggy burger seeping through his paper lunch tray. 

“Hey there, champ!” called Mr. Garcia, coming over to Eugene and his friends. 

Eugene liked the way Mr. Garcia called him “champ” and never his real name. He wondered if there was a way to get everyone to call him that. To become someone new. 

“Hi, Mr. Garcia,” said Eugene, sitting up as straight as he could. “Good game?” 

“Oh, great game. But it’s four against one right now. I need you to finish eating quick so you can come play with me and we can show those sixth graders who’s boss, yeah?” 

Eugene nodded eagerly before he remembered. “I can’t. I, uh, I have to sit here for the rest of lunch.”

Mr. Garcia frowned, and Eugene hated it. “That’s a shame. Maybe tomorrow, huh?”

Eugene nodded, but Mr. Garcia was already turning and making his way back to the basketball court.

Mr. Garcia was the new PE teacher and, in Eugene’s opinion, the best they’d ever had. He was younger than most teachers and taller too with curly dark hair that he kept out of his eyes with a sweatband. And he was strong, always wearing muscle-shirts with the sleeves cut off. When he smiled at you, it was like you were the only person alive, but in a good way. Like you were capable of anything. 

PE had quickly become Eugene’s favorite part of the week. 

“That’s guy’s so full of it.”

Eugene frowned at Jason sitting across the lunch table as he poked at his own burger with a spork. 

“I think Mr. Garcia’s a really good teacher,” Eugene said. 

Jason rolled his eyes. “You would.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Mr. Garcia practically worships you. Just because you’re fast and can do more push-ups than anyone in our grade.” 

Eugene held back a smile, which would certainly not help his case. “That’s not true.”

Jason scoffed and began to slice his burger into tiny cubes. 

“I think Mr. Garcia’s dreamy,” said Sally. She had brought her lunch from home and she was eating her Goldfish crackers one at a time. 

“Gross,” said Jason and when Sally stuck her tongue out at him, Eugene stole one of her crackers. 

Eugene thought about Liz saying that Sally had hooked up with a boy from her gymnastics class. Maybe they kissed. Maybe they didn’t. Liz wasn’t exactly immune to gossip. 

It would probably be too weird to ask. 

The lunch monitors came to dismiss the fifth graders so they could play for the rest of lunch. Sally smiled sadly at Eugene but Jason booked it out of there. And once again, Eugene was forced to sit and watch them go. With a groan, he dropped his head to his arms resting on the lunch table. 

He wished he had brought  _ Harry Potter _ with him. Maybe he could finally finish a chapter book. 

A throat cleared somewhere over Eugene’s shoulder. He ignored it, but the throat clearing grew more insistent. With a sigh, Eugene sat up and turned.

“I need to talk to you,” said Peter. 

“Look, if this is about earlier --,”

“It’s Liz,” said Peter. 

“What’s wrong with Liz?” asked Eugene, trying to act like he didn’t care that apparently Peter and Liz were best friends now. 

“She locked herself in the teacher’s bathroom.” 

That got Eugene listening. “Why would Liz lock herself in the teacher’s bathroom?” 

“Heck if I know! But if a teacher notices, she’ll get in trouble. And I thought you might wanna save her from herself or something.” 

Eugene cast a glance at the lunch monitors, talking by the trash cans. There was no way he could sneak past them. 

“I’m not supposed to leave,” said Eugene. 

Peter’s eyes drifted over to the lunch monitors. And then he was off without even telling Eugene what he was doing. He didn’t seriously think  _ asking  _ the lunch monitors to let Eugene go to the teacher’s bathroom would do anything, right? 

But Peter wasn’t asking. Instead he threw his body to the asphalt, just behind the lunch monitors, yelping in pain. They turned to him in a hurry and he sat there, rubbing his shins, with tears in his big brown eyes. 

Eugene couldn’t believe him. But when Peter’s eyes darted in his direction, he stopped thinking and ran towards bathrooms. 

There were no teachers around and the closest lunch monitor was watching the touch football game on the field. He tried the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. 

“Liz?” called Eugene. “Liz, are you there?” 

He felt ridiculous talking to a door. But then a meek voice answered, “Eugene?” 

“What are you doing in there?” 

He was met with silence.

“Liz, if you don’t come out soon, you’ll get in trouble.” 

“Go away, Eugene!” 

He huffed a breath, letting his head rest against the door. It was hopeless. How could he think he could make any difference? 

“Don’t tell me you’ve given up already.” 

Eugene lifted his head to see Peter jogging toward him, a little out of breath. His cheeks were flushed and his glasses were crooked and seeing him, knowing he had come back, made something bloom inside Eugene’s chest. Whatever it was, it was too big to fit inside him. Eugene couldn’t bear to think about it. 

He turned back to the door, and he thought about whispering, but there was no point. Peter was right there. He’d hear no matter what. “Is this about your parents? Did they . . .?” 

Behind the door, Liz gave a choked sob. 

He didn’t get the big deal about divorce, not really. It wouldn’t be so bad if his dad left. Eugene might miss him on Christmas morning when he handed out candy canes and Halloween when he dressed up in a goofy costume like a ketchup bottle, but he thought there were a lot of times when he wouldn’t miss him at all, like when the Mets were losing or Eugene got a bad grade on his report card or he went out drinking. Sometimes when Eugene was really, really mad, the kind of mad that made the whole world look ugly and rotten, he would wish that his dad would get hit by a truck or shot by a mugger. And then he would feel so guilty for thinking those things that he wouldn’t take the trash out just so his dad would punish him. 

But Eugene supposed that if his mom got sick of him and Jesse and left them alone with their dad, he’d be pretty broken up about it too. 

Eugene glanced at Peter, whose eyes were downcast. He didn’t look particularly surprised. Maybe he heard rumors. Maybe the whole school already knew.

“You’re the nicest girl in the world,” said Eugene. “I don’t know how anyone could ever hurt you.” 

“She’s going to Chicago,” said Liz, and the words sounded torn from some place deep inside, like they had come out of her mouth covered in blood and guts. “With her new  _ boyfriend _ . I don’t get how she could just leave like that. Doesn’t she love me?” 

“Of course she loves you.” 

“Then  _ why _ is she going to  _ Chicago _ ?” 

Eugene met Peter’s eyes. There was a softness in them Eugene had never seen before. It was kind of scary, and kind of nice.

“I think grown ups get lost more than we think,” Eugene said slowly, his eyes still caught on Peter’s. “They go around acting like they’ve got it all together but they’re just as confused and messed up as us, you know? But it’s not your fault. They’re the ones who should be better.”

Peter nodded, like he approved, and Eugene’s chest swelled with pride. Liz kept quiet, but Eugene imagined he could hear her breathing, waiting. He almost had her. He could feel it.

“Come out, Liz. If the world ends, you don’t want to be locked in the teacher’s bathroom.” 

“If the world ends, it won’t matter where I am,” said Liz. “I hope it ends. The new millennium can suck it.” 

“Harsh _,_ ” whispered Peter. Eugene kind of agreed.

This called for desperate measures. 

“ _ You are my fire _ . . .” Eugene began to sing.  _ “The one desire . . .” _

“Whaaat are you doing,” said Peter, staring at Eugene with wide eyes. 

_ “Believe when I say . . .” _

“People are looking at us,” said Peter conversationally.

_ “I want it that way _ . . .”

“Girls are looking at us,” he continued. It was true. A group of girls standing at the edge of the field kept glancing over and giggling.

“This is Liz’s favorite song,” whispered Eugene. “It’ll make her feel better if we sing it.” 

“No thanks. We’re not the Backstreet Boys.”

Eugene smirked. “You know it’s a Backstreet Boys song.” 

“Everyone knows that! It’s on the radio all the time!” 

“ _ But we are two worlds apart . . .”  _ Eugene continued, even louder, just to get under Peter’s skin. He knew people were looking, but it was kind of worth it to see Peter Parker’s cheeks turn a splotchy red. _ “Can’t reach to your heart . . . When you say that I want it that way . . .” _

Eugene stopped singing and looked meaningfully at Peter, who gaped at him. 

“Are you crazy?” asked Peter. “Are you the mayor of crazytown?” 

Eugene nodded at the locked door and Peter glared at it, as if willing it to open with his mind.

“You’re not gonna suddenly get telekinesis.” 

“Shut up,” Peter hissed, trying the locked doorknob once more. It wouldn’t budge. 

Then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 

“ _ Tell me why _ !” he nearly shouted and Eugene grinned so hard his jaw hurt. 

“ _ Ain’t nothing but a heartache!”  _ Eugene sang.

_ “Tell me why!”  _

_ “Ain’t nothing but a mistake!”  _

_ “Tell me why,”  _ they sang together,  _ “I never wanna hear you say, that I -- _ ,” 

The lock of the door clicked and then the door was swinging open. Liz stood in the doorway, her eyes red and her cheeks wet. She threw her arms around Eugene’s neck; he stumbled back, but he caught her. Tears dripped onto the collar of his shirt, and probably snot too, but Eugene couldn’t bring himself to care. He was glad Liz was in his arms. Safe. Where she belonged.

Eugene met Peter’s eyes over Liz’s head. He smiled a little and Peter smiled a little back. They had helped someone they both cared about, together. 

When the bell rang, and lunch ended, and the three of them went back to their class, Eugene found himself inexplicably sad. Like he had lost something, but he couldn’t remember what. 

-x-

Eugene hugged Liz before she got on the bus. 

“You’re not coming?” she asked, suddenly panicked. 

Eugene shook his head. “My dad’s coming to get me and Jesse and we’re getting ice cream. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Oh. Wow. Well, uh, have fun.” 

Liz looked doubtful as she got on the bus and Eugene didn’t blame her. She didn’t know everything about his dad, but she knew enough to know that he wasn’t the type of dad who took his kids for ice cream after school. But Eugene had a good feeling about today. Maybe it was the fact that he somehow managed to avoid getting in trouble for leaving the lunch tables (he was starting to wonder if the lunch monitors even paid attention to the kids). Maybe it was all the singing. 

Eugene went to meet Jesse outside her class, like he always did. But instead of leading her to the bus, they sat on the steps outside of the school building. 

“You excited, monster?” he asked, tickling her sides. 

“Eugene!” she screamed, pushing him away. “Don’t tickle me. I don’t want to lose my appetite.” 

He laughed and gave her a wet willie instead. 

-x- 

The sun was low in the sky when Mr. Garcia walked through the front doors of the school. 

“Champ?” he asked, dropping onto the stairs next to Eugene. Eugene instinctively put a finger to his lips. Jesse was asleep, her head resting against Eugene’s shoulder. Mr. Garcia lowered his voice to a whisper to ask, “What’re you still doing here, buddy? Did you miss the bus?” 

“My dad was supposed to pick us up today,” said Eugene. “We were gonna get ice cream.”

Eugene didn’t look at Mr. Garcia, instead choosing to watch a squirrel running across the street like it was late for something important, or like it had forgotten its backpack at home. He watched the squirrel run until he couldn’t see it anymore. 

“I should have left after ten minutes,” said Eugene. “I don’t know why I waited this long.” 

Eugene felt a hand on his shoulder, but he couldn’t look at him. He just couldn’t. Mr. Garcia always treated Eugene like he was someone worthwhile, and now Eugene knew that he must be seeing him as he really was: a stupid, naive little kid. 

Mr. Garcia didn’t say, “I’m so sorry, Eugene,” or “You’re so stupid, Eugene,” or “You brought this on yourself, Eugene.” Those were all things Eugene was used to hearing and things he knew how to deal with. Those were all things Eugene was expecting. 

But Mr. Garcia didn’t say what Eugene expected him to say. He said something entirely different. 

“Let’s go play some ball, champ.” 

-x-

An hour and a half of shooting hoops and Eugene’s dad finally wandered onto the basketball court. Eugene could hear the heavy stomps of his father’s boots before he even saw him, and he could tell he was drunk. 

Jesus. A hot flush of shame worked its way from the gut of his belly to the tips of his ears. He just hoped Mr. Garcia, someone who hadn’t spent a whole lot of time getting to know exactly what kind of drunk Eugene’s dad was that day, couldn’t tell. 

“Daddy!” yelled Jesse, running to Dad. 

“Heya, Princess,” said Dad, spinning her around in the air. 

“Where were you? I thought we were getting ice cream!” 

“Some other time, baby.” Dad looked at Eugene, steadily dribbling the ball in place. “You know what to do with that thing?” 

Eugene shot the ball. It sailed through the net silently. 

“Mr. Thompson, your son is the best athlete in his class,” Mr. Garcia said as he ran to catch the ball that bounded across the pavement. “And he’s always eager to learn.” 

“Huh,” said Dad, staring at Eugene like he’d never really seen him before. His eyes moved to Mr. Garcia. “You’re a coach?” 

“PE teacher.” Mr. Garcia held out a hand and Dad shook it. “I do think Eugene would benefit from organized sports though. They’ve been known to help straighten out boys who might otherwise lack a strong male figure in their lives.” 

Dad froze. Eugene wasn’t sure, but he thought Mr. Garcia might have just insulted his dad. Right to his face. It was kind of awesome. 

“Come on, kid,” said Dad and Eugene went with him. 

“See ya later, champ!” Mr. Garcia called and Eugene looked back just in time to see Mr. Garcia dunk the ball through the hoop. 

-x-

As exciting as it had been to see Eugene’s dad get insulted by his cool PE teacher, as they made their way home, fear began to creep in. He played the whole exchange in his mind, over and over again, backwards and forwards. He couldn’t think of anything wrong. Maybe not enough eye contact? Or maybe not saying hi. Sometimes Eugene’s dad wanted to be hugged hello, and sometimes he didn’t. There was never an easy way to tell. 

It didn’t always matter if he hadn’t done anything wrong, Eugene knew. His dad would find a way to blame him anyway. 

Dad let Jesse run off into the house, but he clamped a hand on Eugene’s shoulder and led him to the toolshed in the backyard. A lead weight sunk in Eugene’s stomach. They’d never gone to the  _ toolshed  _ before. 

“Dad . . .” said Eugene as he tugged open the shed’s door. “I’m sorry.” 

But Dad ignored him, instead rustling inside the toolshed. Eugene heard the clank of rusted metal. Preemptive tears stung his eyes. He willed them to stay put. 

Maybe he sort of got what Liz meant about the new millennium and wanting the world to end. Maybe he’d give it all up just to have this moment go away. Maybe that was selfish, to want the world to blow up just so your own suffering could be over. Maybe Eugene was just a selfish guy. 

Finally Dad straightened. A comet didn’t strike the earth. No one turned into a zombie. He didn’t hear a  _ kaboom _ anywhere. The only world he had was this one, and it was still turning and so was his father. 

But in his dad’s hands, there were no weird torture devices. Only a single, slightly deflated football. 

“You think you can catch this?” asked Dad. 

The leather was peeling, and yeah, it was super flat. But it was just a ball. And Eugene could catch it. 

“Yes, sir,” said Eugene, and for once, he meant it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!


	3. Jaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2001

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> homophobia/internalized homophobia tw

Eugene was cutting his pork chops into tiny pieces at dinner when he casually said, “I’m probably gonna go out with the guys after practice.”

“That’s lovely, Eugene,” said Mom, spooning some applesauce and trying to force it past the cage of Jesse’s lips. “Have fun, baby. Jess, I swear --,”

Jesse covered her lips with her hands. “I hate applesauce. You can’t make me eat it.” 

“Rosie, leave the damn applesauce alone,” said Eugene’s dad. He turned his attention to Eugene. “Don’t forget about the test you’ve got on Monday. Wouldn’t want it to turn out like the last one.”

“It won’t, sir.” 

“In high school, they won’t let you be on the team if your grades start slipping.” 

“I know, sir.”

“Remember you’ve only got a year left before you’re done with the rec league. Then it’s time for the real deal.” 

“How could I forget when it’s all you talk about?” mumbled Eugene.

“Don’t give me that tone, kiddo,” said Dad, but his voice was easy. Joking even. Eugene didn’t relax his shoulders. 

“Never, sir.” 

He wasn’t stupid. Not where it counts.

-x-

Morning practice was wet and cold. It started raining halfway through, not just a little rain, but pouring sheets that made the whole field slick and sticky. Mud splashed everywhere and by the time that practice was over and they were all stripping off their practice jerseys and cleats, they were covered with the stuff. 

“Dude,” said Richard, clutching his sides like it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen. “You’ve got shit all over your face.” 

Eugene opened the nearest locker. He dropped his helmet inside and grabbed the duffle bag from within it and ran into the showers. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could see that Richard was right; mud had somehow splashed under his helmet and crusted his face in a dry splatter. He turned on the sink and furiously tried to wipe it off. 

“Whatsa matter, Eugene?” called Richard. “Hot date?” 

Eugene ignored him, turning on the shower. It drowned out the voices, and the loudness of the quiet relieved him. He dropped his shirt on the tiled floor and stepped under the cold water, still in his shorts. He jumped around a little to try and warm up and shake off the mud. 

The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Liz by looking like he just crawled from out of the sewer like a freaking Ninja Turtle. 

After his shower, Eugene changed into his nicest pair of navy blue Dickies and a wrinkled button down. He towel dried his hair and then stared at himself in the mirror. A pimple stood red and angry on his chin and the bones in his shins ached in a deep way that had nothing to do with football. “You’re thirteen and you’re growing,” said his mother when he complained. “Nothing hurts like growing.” 

Eugene grabbed his stuff and went back into the locker room. A couple of the boys wolf-whistled, only they couldn’t whistle very well, all vocal cords and no air. 

“You gonna see  _ Liz _ ?” asked Richard. 

“Maybe,” said Eugene with a slow smile. 

“You’re so lucky, bro. She’s so hot.” 

Eugene shoved his muddy cleats into his duffle bag. Whenever the girl-talk started, he tried to get out of there as fast as possible. It never felt real, like they were all a bunch of 5-year-olds playing dress up. Most of these guys probably hadn’t even kissed anyone before. 

Not that Eugene had much to say about that. 

“Dude,” said Robert or Davey (Eugene couldn’t tell with his head bent over his bag). “Has she let you touch her boobs?” 

Eugene’s head snapped up to glare in the direction of Robert or Davey (he glared at both, just to be safe). 

“You’re such an asshole.”

The group of boys _ ooh _ ’ed. Davey stood straighter, scowling beneath mud still caked onto his face. The boys began to jeer out insults at Davey, jokes about his mom, and Eugene might have told them to knock it off if Davey weren’t honest to god  _ such _ an asshole. So maybe he should have seen it coming, the downward twist of his mouth, the hard set of his eyebrows. Maybe he could have stopped it all, but he didn’t; he just let it keep building until it all came exploding out and Eugene was hit in the face with a spew of poison. 

“Why are you being so gay?” 

A hush fell over the group of boys. That wasn’t just a bad word, it was a loaded word, and not the kind you used against the quarterback of your football team. Eugene didn’t know all the details but he got that feeling that pretty much everything you were supposed to do as a 13-year-old was to keep from being that. If other people thought you were -- well it was over. There were rumors sometimes and they always had claws, not like other rumors that were pretty much harmless. Someone said they saw a kid wearing a dress to the movies once and that kid had to transfer schools. 

All eyes were on Eugene, waiting to see what he would do. They burned his skin. React and prove him right. Do nothing and prove him right. It was a lose-lose, like most things in Eugene’s life.

So Eugene reacted.

He shoved Davey into the lockers. The  _ clash  _ reverberated, a long thrum coursing through the air like music. 

“Say it again,” said Eugene, staring into Davey’s wide eyes. Davey was a smaller kid and Eugene was the second tallest guy on the team, and Eugene realized that Davey was afraid of him. Good. The little douchebag. “Go on.” 

Davey shook his head. Eugene dropped him — and it was only when Davey was huddled on the ground that Eugene realized he had even lifted him off it. His blood felt hot under his skin. Fire clouded his vision.

Eugene rested a soft hand on Davey’s head, the way his dad sometimes did after a rough punishment. 

“Don’t say shit about me,” said Eugene. He thought about it for a moment. “Or Liz.” 

He didn’t wait for Davey’s hurried nod before leaving the locker room. It was still raining. 

-x-

“I swear I didn’t invite you just to put you to work,” said Liz. “The knife goes on the other side of the spoon.” 

Mr. Allan’s dinner club was decked out in cream and rose colors like Valentine’s Day had exploded over everything. Tulips lined the tables. Silverware glinted under rose-tinted lights. 

Eugene switched the knife and spoon. “It’s okay. I like to help.” 

He glanced up at Mark, tall and steady, across the room. He was mostly ignoring them as he set tables, but he looked their way, quirking his lips in a slanted smile. Mark didn’t like them very much, but he didn’t not like them either, and that was enough for Eugene, who grinned back like a total dork. 

They finished putting out the silverware and then Liz grabbed Eugene’s hand and dragged him away, calling out, “Be back soon!” to Mark, who grunted. 

Liz lead Eugene into a back room where the wedding dress was hanging. It was lovely and simple, a lacy slip of white. Eugene had a brief vision of his future wife walking down the aisle towards him. In the vision, he couldn’t see her face, but her dress looked just like this one. 

They were on a beach maybe. Somewhere warm.

“When I get married, I want my dress to be more princessy,” said Liz as she went over to a clothing rack where the magenta bridesmaids dresses hung. “That one’s so boring.” 

Eugene almost said that he thought the dress was really pretty, and then he suddenly remembered Davey’s taunt in the locker room. He stopped himself.

Liz began to strip off her shirt and pants. 

“Liz!” yelled Eugene, squeezing his eyes shut. “Jesus.” 

“You don’t have to close your eyes,” said Liz with a laugh. “I’m a modern woman. I’m not scared of you seeing my body.” 

Eugene didn’t know how to say that maybe he was the one who was scared.

_ Why are you being so — _

“Your brother would kill me if he heard you say that.” 

“Stepbrother. And like he cares at all. Mark barely remembers my name. Okay, I’m decent.” 

Eugene opened his eyes. Liz stood before him in a frilly pink dress with her soft-looking hair falling around her bare shoulders. 

“Well?” said Liz, doing a little spin. “What do you think?” 

“I think . . .” He didn’t know what to think. He didn’t know what thoughts were right to say. “I think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” 

It was true, and it was right, because a huge grin split Liz’s face. She was the prettiest girl he had ever seen, really, and he loved the way she smiled at him like she knew he was telling her the truth. 

“You’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen,” said Liz and Eugene flushed; that, he knew, was a lie. His hair was a little too red, which was ok for girls, but weird for boys. He freckled in the sun. There were tons of guys who were better-looking than him. Eugene was just tall. 

“After Keanu,” Liz added. 

“Keanu _ Reeves _ ?” cried Eugene. “Seriously? What about Justin Timberlake? Or Tom Cruise!” 

Liz shrugged, barely able to contain her laughter. “I like dark and broody —,” 

And Eugene had to tackle her in a tickle attack because he just couldn’t let that stand. 

-x-

Eugene was sitting next to Mark, who was being extremely stoic and not talking at all. He wanted to ask Mark why he wasn’t in the wedding party; if Liz was invited, why wasn’t he? But Mark was a little bit scary and Eugene didn’t feel like getting punched today. Plus, it wasn’t any of his business. Mark was probably wondering why Eugene was here alone. 

He turned around to look at the guests as they sat themselves. They were all dressed nicer than Eugene, who was in his nicest clothes. A familiar family came through the doors: Peter Parker and his aunt and uncle. Eugene blinked as he watched Peter’s uncle guide him into a chair, while his aunt murmured something that had both Ben and Peter cracking up. Peter’s eyes suddenly flicked to his and Eugene spun around in chair, his face hot. 

“Why is Peter Parker here?” Eugene mumbled. 

“Who?” said Mark. He turned around to look and Eugene hit him in the shoulder. 

“Don’t! Jesus, Mark.” 

Mark huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. He was older than Liz, already in college. Eugene thought he must play sports with arms like those. 

“Good to know Liz’s friends are as weird as her,” said Mark, and somehow that made Eugene’s insides warm up. 

As more people filed in, Eugene resolutely did not glance back at Peter Parker. He wasn’t the only person from Eugene’s school -- Cindy Moon sat with her parents and her brother, and of course Sally Avril and her mom were there -- but he was the person Eugene would have least expected to see. 

Eugene imagined, briefly, that his whole family was here with him. It would be nice, if his family were someone else’s family. As it was, he’d probably spend the whole time just praying his dad wasn’t going to say anything offensive. 

An old man started playing the organ. Eugene, along with everyone else, turned in their seats to see the doors open: the priest started down the aisle, and Mr. Allan was a few steps behind him. He was practically beaming as he clapped one guy on the shoulder and grasped the hand of a woman. Someone yelled, “You nervous, Wil?” and he said “Damn right I am,” and everyone laughed. 

Then Liz walked out, arm-in-arm with an older woman who must have been Doris’ sister or friend or something. They split at the head of the aisle with Liz taking a spot at her dad’s side. She was clearly trying to be cool and not smile too much, but she was failing horribly. It made Eugene smile just to look at her. He knew it hadn’t been easy for her when her mom left, and that Liz still loved her mom deeply, and he had heard the petty things she said about Doris when she started dating her dad a few months after the divorce, but you could barely tell any of that now. Liz just wanted her dad to be happy, deep down. And Eugene wanted Liz to be happy too.

When Doris began to walk down the aisle, a hush fell over the room. But Eugene wasn’t looking at her. He watched Mr. Allan instead and the way his face went all soft around the edges, the way his eyes got glassy, the way the room seemed to melt away as he stared at the woman he loved. Eugene wondered if anyone could ever look at him like that. It wasn’t realistic, but hey, stranger things had happened. 

Eugene downcast his eyes as Doris reached Mr. Allan. The priest launched into his whole spiel about cherishing one another and committing to each other and yada yada sickness and health, forever and ever amen. When they kissed, Eugene’s eyes stung. 

_ Stop being a girl,  _ he thought to himself. Just thinking something like that would make Liz angry, but he couldn’t help it. Sometimes the voice in his head sounded an awful lot like his dad’s. Just as loud. Just as impossible to ignore. 

_ Why are you being —  _

There was clapping and hollering and Eugene forced himself to clap along even as he wondered how it was possible to be surrounded by people and feel so completely alone. 

-x-

“Did you see that Peter Parker is here?” asked Liz immediately as she dragged Eugene into a corner. “His aunt is in Doris’ book club.”

Eugene craned his neck to see the Parkers huddled in their own corner. They looked a bit out of place themselves, Eugene thought, in their clothes that were from some other decade. But they were out of place and together at least. Eugene stuck out alone. 

“Liz, we’re doing pictures!” yelled Mark. 

“God, Mark! Chill!” She turned a brilliant smile on Eugene. “You should go say hi.” 

“What?” 

But Liz was already skipping off to her family. Eugene turned his attention back to the Parkers. Maybe he could go say hi -- see if Mr. Parker recognized him. But then he thought, what if Mr. Parker didn’t recognize him? And he was left standing there like a loser? Better not risk it. 

So Eugene sat alone at a table. A band was setting up and caterers were rolling in trays of food, and everything moved like clockwork and Eugene wondered at how many weddings all these people had seen and he wondered at how many of the couples were living happily ever after and how many had split up and how many were just making each other miserable. 

“Hey.” 

Eugene started, lost in his own thoughts, and looked up to see Peter Parker standing over him. He looked a little weird, a little overdressed, in his shaggy suit jacket and slacks, shirt buttoned up all the way to the collar. 

“You’re wearing a tie,” Eugene told him. 

Peter’s mouth twisted into a scowl. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” 

“Isn’t that your thing?” 

Peter had gotten a camera for Hanukkah or something and now he went everywhere with it. “He’s such a weird little stalker,” one of the guys on the team had said. “Probably takes pics up girls’ skirts.” 

“Think he’ll share?” another guy asked and they all crowed like it was hilarious and Eugene rolled his eyes, knowing Peter Parker would be more interested in the anatomy of spiders than girls. 

Now Peter was just staring at him. “You want me to take a picture of myself and send it to you?” 

What? No, Eugene didn’t want that. Panicked butterflies swarmed his stomach except these were more like wasps. They stung. 

“Why are you such a stalker, Parker?” asked Eugene, crossing his arms and turning his body away from Peter, so that he could know he had absolutely so interest in this conversation. “Go take photos up some girl’s skirt.” 

Peter took a step back, his thick brow furrowed. “Were you always this big a creep? I can’t actually remember.” 

To Eugene’s horror, his eyes began to sting. He ducked his head, ungelled hair flopping over his face, hiding it from the room. All he could see was a frayed thread in the stitching of the table cloth. He heard Peter huff out a breath before the seat beside him scratched against the floor and he was falling into it. 

“What are you still doing here?” Eugene mumbled. 

“It’ll be a whole thing if I go back without you. My aunt adores you. She’ll start to think I’m not nice or something.”

Brow furrowed, Eugene glanced up — to see the tiniest smirk on Peter’s face. 

“You’re the least nice person I’ve ever met,” said Eugene, his voice softening on the edges, just a bit. 

“I’m a delight, Eugene.” 

Eugene snorted and Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Well, it takes one to know one.” 

“I never said I’m not an asshole too.” 

“At least you’re self-aware. Unlike most of your buddies on the football team. That guy Davey —,” 

“He’s not my buddy,” said Eugene automatically, and Peter’s eyebrows shot up.

“You hang out with him at school.” 

“I guess he’s funny sometimes. And his parents are rich so he’s always got the best snacks. But mostly he’s just . . . there.” 

“I’d never hang out with someone just because they were there.” 

Eugene crossed his arms, irritated that Parker was gonna sit there and judge him for who his friends were when he didn’t have any. Maybe that was okay for Peter, to prefer drawing and cameras and books and microscopes over people, but some guys just weren’t built like that. Eugene didn’t go home to a doting aunt and uncle who thought the sun shone out of his ass every day. It wasn’t a crime to want people to like you.

“Trust me, I’ve noticed,” said Eugene, scowling at Peter’s profile. 

“Been paying a lot of attention to me, Eugene?” asked Peter with a little smirk and Eugene made a big show of rolling his eyes. 

“God, you wish.” 

“Every night,” said Peter and something weird and warm squirmed in Eugene’s stomach.

They fell into silence and Eugene thought maybe he could go say hi to Peter’s aunt and uncle after all, if Peter led the way, it might even be nice, when suddenly — 

“How’d you ever get a girl like Liz?” 

Eugene shot his eyes to Peter, but Peter was now staring off in the direction of where Liz had her head thrown back, laughing at something Mark had said. One of the thin straps of her dress slipped off her shoulder, leaving nothing to be seen but lightly freckled skin. Eugene watched Peter bite his lip. 

“Liz is my friend,” he said at last. 

“Seriously? She’s the prettiest girl in school.” 

He said it like Eugene was crazy, like he didn’t have eyes, like somehow he’d never even noticed Liz before, but he was wrong. Of course Eugene noticed Liz. Sometimes, she was all he noticed. He thought about how pretty she was and how strong she was and how kind and funny and how she probably knew him better than anyone in the world. He wondered if he should kiss her and he wondered what his dad would think if he saw them kissing and he wondered what the guys on the team would think and he knew that everyone already thought they were kissing anyway so what would be the harm in just actually doing it for once? He thought about holding her hand. 

He thought about it and he thought about it and he did nothing. 

Because maybe . . . maybe thinking about something and wanting something weren’t the same. 

“Well, if you don’t lock that down, I will,” said Peter with a shrug. 

“You gonna get married or something?” 

“Oh, sure. We’d live on the upper east side with a cat and two kids.”

“You’d leave Queens?” 

Peter pulled a face. “Okay, we’d have two homes.” 

“One for each kid.” 

“Exactly! Boy and girl of course —,”

“‘What’re their names?” 

“Lola and Javier.” 

Eugene let a little laugh escape; it came out too high and girlish and he tried to cover it up with a snort, but when he looked up at Peter, he was barely concealing a grin. 

“They’ll be Olympic ice dancers,” Peter finished. “We’re just hoping for a bronze.” 

Eugene ducked his head because he couldn’t hide his smile anymore. Peter Parker was such a weirdo. 

“And the cat?” 

“Gene.” 

Eugene looked up and Peter was already looking at him. Suddenly, Eugene remembered Peter’s eyes were brown. Of course they were brown. Brown was the only color he remembered at all. Brown with flecks of green. 

Eugene stood up, the chair he was sitting on clattering to the floor. People turned around to stare at him, but he didn’t bother fixing it. He gave Peter a cool look. 

“You’re such a weirdo, Parker.” 

As he stormed off to go find Liz, he could hear Peter fixing the chair behind him and he felt like he should have said something back — that Eugene was an asshole or something, which he was, come on, Parker, he could take it — but Peter, for once, was silent. 

-x-

They ate food and made speeches and had first dances. Doris and Wilson spun slowly to “At Last,” and then Wilson pulled Liz in and Mark grabbed Doris and they all spun together, looking like a family for all they were worth. More like a family than Eugene’s at least. 

The dance floor opened as the band continued to play. Liz fell into the seat next to Eugene. There was a nervous energy about her. She kept tugging at the ends of her hair.

“You looked really great up there,” said Eugene. 

Liz blinked at him owlishly. “Oh. Thanks.” 

Eugene shrugged and looked back to the dance floor. Liz kept watching him. 

“Did you talk to Peter Parker?” 

“Sure.”

“And?”

“He’s an asshole.” 

“I think he’s kind of funny.”

“Why don’t you go sit with him then?” 

Liz fell silent and Eugene took a deep breath to mumble, “Sorry.” 

The music shifted into something upbeat and catchy and the singer’s scratchy voice sang, “ _ Hey, j-j-jaded, you’ve got your mama’s style but you’re yesterday’s child to me . . .”  _

Eugene sat up straight, the darkness hanging over him seeming to clear. “I love this song! Aerosmith. My dad has these old vinyl record that we used to listen to when I was really little. This is one of their newer songs, but the old ones — I had this dance to ‘Dream On’ and my parents thought it was so funny, they’d have me do it at every Thanksgiving for a couple years.” He ducked his head, suddenly embarrassed by his rambling. “It’s just a really nice memory. I love Aerosmith.” 

When Eugene glanced up, Liz was smiling softly at him like — like she thought he was cute or something. His face felt warm. 

“You wanna dance?” 

“Sure,” said Eugene because it was Liz. Of course he wanted to dance with Liz. 

She grabbed his hand and pulled him onto the dancefloor, right to the center. He bopped a little in one place until Liz, laughing, put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to settle. 

“Relax a little.”

“I’m relaxed,” he grumbled. 

Laughing, she leaned even closer to him so she didn’t have to shout over the music. “I really like you, Eugene.” 

“I like you too!” said Eugene, thinking this was pretty damn obvious. Sometimes he thought Liz might be the only person in the entire world who he liked. Sometimes he liked her more than his own sister. Sometimes he wished she was his sister. 

Liz smiled beautifully and then, before Eugene could fully process what was happening, she leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. 

He froze. He stared down the bridge of his nose at the freckles across hers. Her lips were wet from newly reapplied lip gloss. 

She pulled back, her cheeks flushed pink. His heart thumped wildly in his chest. The singer crooned, “ _ Baby, I’m afraid of you!”  _

She was so pretty, Eugene thought. The prettiest girl in the world.

“No?” Liz asked, a little embarrassed sounding. “I just thought — it’s just that you said —,” 

Eugene leaned forward and kissed her. Their eyes met, giving him a headache, and he pulled back again. 

“Have you ever kissed anyone?” Liz asked, even though she knew the answer. Eugene shook his head. 

“Me neither,” said Liz. “I think you’re supposed to close your eyes.” 

So Eugene did, and then Liz kissed him again and yeah, this was better. It wasn’t giving him a headache. 

When she pulled back, his eyes fluttered open and they both burst into giggles. 

“So does this mean, we’re like . . .” Eugene searched for the right words. “Going out?” 

“That depends,” said Liz with a little smirk. “I’m no hussy. Will you be my boyfriend?”

Eugene nodded immediately and Liz jumped on the balls of her feet. She crashed into him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He hugged her back, thinking,  _ I’ve got a girlfriend.  _

His eyes moved throughout the crowd of dancing bodies; he didn’t know what he was looking for until he found it — Peter Parker, sitting with his aunt and uncle on the edge of the crowd. He was already looking at Eugene and his face was carefully blank. Eugene could still see the brown of his eyes. 

The band yelled,  _ “You’re so jaded, and I’m the one that jaded you!”  _ and Eugene broke their locked gaze first.

-x-

Liz came to Eugene’s next practice, only slightly less rainy and miserable than the last. But she wore a pink polka-dotted umbrella and thick tights and the boys all crowed when they saw her sitting out there, a book tucked under her arm (probably  _ Jurassic Park _ , Eugene knew she was trying to get through it, although in Eugene’s opinion, it was way more boring than the movie), and Eugene barely even noticed the rain.

“Eugene, your girlfriend’s here!” yelled Tiny, but Eugene was already trotting up to the bleachers. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hey,” she said. 

“I like your umbrella.” 

“Thanks.” 

They grinned at each other. 

“Well, have a good practice,” said Liz. 

“Oh, sure. Thanks.” 

They stared at each other. And then Eugene leaned forward and pecked Liz on the lips. 

He only caught a flash of her pink cheeks before he was turning around and running back to the team, who were all jeering and patting him on the back and he was grinning even as his coach yelled for them all to stop thinking about girls for once in their miserable pre-pubescent lives and get back to football. 

In the locker room, Davey approached Eugene with his shoulders bent and his head ducked. 

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “About what I said. You’re obviously not . . .” 

Eugene thought about letting him grovel a little bit more, but he looked so damn pathetic, so Eugene knocked his fist into Davey’s shoulder. 

“No sweat. You were just joking around, right?” 

“Right,” Davey agreed, his relief palpable. He gave Eugene a worshipful grin, so grateful to have been pardoned, and it made Eugene stand even taller. 

And if after getting cleaned up, after going to get ice cream with Liz, after kissing her three more times and holding her hand, if he saw a spider dangling from the rail on the subway home and thought of someone else entirely — then it didn’t fucking matter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so when i started this it did not occur to me that my second year of grad school would kick my ass so thoroughly and i deeply apologize but honestly i'm still in it if you're still in it. we'll get through this yet.


End file.
